


this feels like falling in love

by stopthenrewind



Category: Pitch Perfect (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopthenrewind/pseuds/stopthenrewind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So this little thing going on between Jesse and Beca? Yeah, it’s the world’s worst-kept secret, one that has been too entertaining but too tiring to watch from the sidelines. So the Bellas decide to take matters in their own hands, and Beca ends up having to remind herself that she doesn’t (shouldn’t) care, at all. (Or at least, that’s what she tells herself.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	this feels like falling in love

Okay, so maybe Beca kind of likes the Bellas.

She knows it’s way out of character for her, hanging out with and actually _liking_ a big group of girls who in no way are similar to her nor share her interests. They’re weird, and rarely pick up on her sarcasm, and make sure to sing in public at least once a day (these are times she wishes she could sink to the ground and disappear, of course), but they create something amazing with their voices together, something not even someone as cynical as Beca can deny.

Forming actual (and relatively stable…ish) friendships with them, however, means that they feel like they’re totally free to invade her personal space (which they’re totally not). She really isn’t so surprised anymore, when any of the Bellas barge into her dorm room without knocking (to Kimmie Jin’s annoyance, of course, which is a plus), or read her phone messages without her knowledge, or in Chloe’s case, walk in on her in the showers more than once just to have a friendly, relatively normal chat about their set list. You know, the usual weird shit that used to freak the hell out of her but she now just embraces with resignation and the occasional eye roll. Because they’re her friends, as _strange_ as that sounds – these ragtag bunch of girls who do the craziest shit known to mankind are her friends, and she’s never gonna say it out loud, but she does kind of like them. A lot.

They do ask way too many questions, though – nothing personal, like what had happened to her parents or why she’s so fucking pissed at the world 90% of the time (and that’s them being generous), which she appreciates – but they do ask about her love life, which she does not. Because it is, quite possibly, the most annoying thing in the world to talk about. Especially with her, of all freaking people.

Fat Amy is one of the headliners of the 20 Sometimes-Inappropriate Questions that usually come into play whenever they’re having their post-rehearsal dinners at this 24-hour diner/karaoke bar off-campus, where they talk too loudly and eat too much and take up way too much room. Amy likes to sit in the middle of the bench, facing the jukebox in the corner as she scouts for “hot man meat,” and fires the questions one after the other. All. Night. Long.

One particular night, Beca makes the tiny mistake of sitting right across from Fat Amy when Stacie starts crowding her on the bench. Scratch that, she thinks, when Amy’s eyes land on her and the tiniest of smiles forms on her lips: it is a _big_ mistake.

Beca thinks they’ve been discussing about past relationships – she really hasn’t been listening, so she’s not really sure – when Amy directs a question to her. Beca winces. “So Beca,” she begins, and Beca thinks Amy’s really digging this, with her fingers tapping pensively on the tabletop and a serious expression on her face, “I know that you’re a single, attractive young woman – albeit less sexy than I am but with rather large melons for someone so tiny – but I’m just curious: have you ever had a boyfriend before?”

Ugh, she knew it.

“Um.” She shrugs. “Not really.” She dips her fry into the ketchup on Stacie’s plate to stall for time; Stacie shoots her a glare that she ignores, because she is not fighting over ketchup she’s too lazy to grab from the next table. “I’ve dated some assholes, yeah. But nothing serious. Like, at _all._ ”

“But you’re interested, right?” Jessica asks, looking way too interested in this topic of discussion. “In something serious, I mean.”

She almost laughs out loud in her face, because really? She’s asking _her_ this question? “Uh.” She scrunches her nose to effectively depict her distaste in the turn the conversation has currently taken. “No.”

She concentrates on how she’s going to steal some more ketchup from the plate Stacie’s now shielding with her red talons to avoid further interrogation, because she is not comfortable about any of this. At all. Everything about Beca’s body language screams that she’s way, way done with this conversation, and she just wishes they’d just all take a bloody hint and leave her and her French fries alone.

The Bellas seem to get the point, nodding, lowering their heads. They don’t say anything further about the topic, because they know this is already as much as Beca’s willing to share.

Well, everyone except Fat Amy. Who is not deterred even the slightest bit. She just shoves one of Beca’s fries into her mouth and frowns thoughtfully as she chews.

“Funny,” Amy says, addressing Beca but not really looking in her direction, which is probably wise. “I could’ve sworn…”

Beca frowns. “What?” It comes out wary, clearly testing the trajectory of Amy’s retort and how far she’s going to have to retract in retaliation.

“Uhhh.” Amy shrugs. She looks so effectively annoying right now, Beca actually hates how it’s working. “Nothing.”

“ _Amy_.”

“We-ell…” Amy starts to whistle. Or more like blow some tuneless air out of her parted lips in a lame attempt at a whistle. “Just thought something wanky was going on between you and that Treble pretty boy who was making eyes at you last night at the aca-party.”

Oh god.

Beca feels her face flush red, and she bristles, annoyed at her reaction. Because she remembers the smiles Jesse had sent her way, and how she (stupidly) had hung out with him the entire night, refusing to mingle with anybody else, how he had never left her side except to go get them drinks, how he had flirted shamelessly (and dorkily, never forget) with her and how she hadn’t done anything to resist. (She just thinks it would’ve been _futile,_ okay, because Jesse is one persistent, flirty asshole, and it’s not like she was flirting back…or anything.)

“Nothing’s going on between Jesse and me!” she says, and she absolutely hates how she sounds way too defensive and squeaky – a highly dangerous combination, as far as these girls are concerned. Shit.

“Funny,” Fat Amy says again, sticking a soggy piece of fry behind her ear, her face neutral and deadpan, as always. “I didn’t even mention a name…”

Oh.

Stacie giggles from beside her.

Fuck.

The girls all bow their heads, mouths twitching into their salad bowls and burger plates.

_Fuck._

Chloe starts elbowing her in the ribs with the biggest shit-eating grin on her face, and Beca slaps her arm away as she scowls into her pizza, feeling the goddamn fucking traitorous redness creep up her neck and cheeks.

She’s never gonna hear the end of this.

“Looks like Beca has a cru-ush,” Chloe sing-songs, and giggles are hidden behind shaking palms and crumpled napkins.

(Beca wonders if it would be rude to give them _all_ the finger in front of those truckers in the booth next to them right about now.

The temptation to do so is insanely high.)

“God, that’s insane, okay, you’re insane,” she protests, crossing her arms over her chest in a defiant pose, trying to maintain some shred of dignity. “Jesse is an insufferable, egotistic asshole who watches way too many movies and who has not grasped the concept of ‘Leave me alone’ and ‘I don’t give a shit.’”

(She doesn’t get crushes, okay? Especially not on insufferable, egotistic assholes like Jesse Fucking Swanson.

No, she does not.)

“Right,” Amy says with a nod. “I suppose you always tell him to leave you alone…like you did last night…and the afternoon before that, when you were hanging out at the courtyard…and the morning before that, when you–” Beca cuts her off by aiming a glare and a kick in her direction, but the effort proves to be futile when Amy just kicks back and Beca only ends up with a painful ankle and a swollen shin.

She grits her teeth through the sudden haze of pain making her eyes water. “Amy!”

Amy looks wide-eyed and a bit too innocent. “What?”

Some friends.

 

::

 

“No, but _really_ ,” Amy says, as they walk (or limps, in Beca’s case) back to Baker Hall. The other girls have already said their goodnights, scattering around the quad on their way back to their own dorms.

Beca keeps silent. Maybe if she keeps this up Fat Amy will just know to shut up.

“Becaaaaaa.”

She sighs. Didn’t even last ten seconds.

“What, Amy?”

“Just… Nothing?”

“Nothing what?”

“Really nothing between you and Treble pretty boy?”

“ _O_ kay. One, stop calling him that; and two,” she makes a face as they step into Baker Hall’s common room, “no. Nothing. Zero.”

 “ _Really_?”

Fat Amy doesn’t look the teeniest bit convinced, but Beca’s just really too fucking tired for this shit right now. “ _Yes,_ really.”

Amy shrugs. “Okaaaay.” She claps her on the back (hard), making her lose her balance, and then moves towards the stairs, stretching her arms over her head.

“‘Night, short stuff,” Amy calls over her shoulder, and Beca just stares daggers at her retreating back.

She’s _really_ beginning to rethink this whole ‘friendship’ thing.

 

::

 

Chloe thinks it’s so adorable and so very funny, how Beca’s denial is just astoundingly stubborn.

Beca tries to act like she doesn’t have the hugest toner (okay, so _maybe_ Aubrey has way too much influence on her vocabulary) for that cute freshman on the Trebles working with her at the station, but it’s probably the world’s worst-kept secret. Chloe’s been in countless discussions with the rest of the Bellas about the development of Beca and Jesse’s relationship, which is their favorite topic of gossip once Aubrey’s out of earshot. And nobody, absolutely nobody, believes that anything between those two is just platonic. Not even Aubrey.

(“I swear to God if Beca breaks the Bella code I’m gonna strangle her alive,” Aubrey grumbles as they observe Jesse and Beca sitting on an old towel out on the courtyard. “I told her I was Dixie Chicks serious!”

“Jesse always rushes off from Film 101 to go by Beca’s music theory class two buildings away,” Jessica tells Chloe, as they sit on the steps outside the administration building with mocha lattes between classes. “It’s adorable, really.”

“They’ve been having breakfast together in the dining hall two times a week,” Ashley whispers in between Aubrey’s comprehensive lecture on proper breathing techniques while singing. “I always see them while I’m walking to class.”

“They were getting on a bus last weekend, headed downtown, I think,” Denise pants, as she and Chloe run on treadmills in the gym. “I have no idea where they went.”

Chloe rests her case.)

She’s tried asking Beca about each of these things (really subtly, of course), but all she gets are pointed glares and heavy eye rolls until she agrees to change the subject.

(“ _Nothing_ is going on!” Beca exclaims, looking beyond frustrated. “I hate the guy. He’s a pain in my ass.”

“Okay.” Chloe bites her lip to keep from smiling, because seriously, that is _so_ a blush on Beca’s cheeks. “I believe you.”

Not.)

“Fat Amy swears, and I quote, ‘on the blood of my dead pet crocodile,’” Cynthia Rose says, wrinkling her nose as she gets settled in the sleeping bag Chloe’s laid out on the floor, “that Jesse’s been going to Beca’s room a couple of times in the past week. Doesn’t leave until really late, she says.”

“Probably getting a little frisky,” Stacie says offhandedly, dusting off her nails and frowning at them in the light of Chloe’s bedside lamp.

Cynthia Rose shakes her head, wrapping Chloe’s favorite purple snuggie around her shoulders. “Nah, dude. That seems unlikely.”

“I bet you five bucks that Beca will jump Jesse by the end of the year,” Stacie retorts without even batting an eye. “Then hump the night away.”

“Stacie.” Chloe wrinkles her nose at the girl’s language, but Stacie just shrugs.

“What? It’s true.” She blows on her nails and holds them up in front of her face, smiling fondly. “All that unresolved sexual tension from the riff-off?” She shakes her head with a knowing smile. “They won’t put out for long.”

“Ten bucks says she’ll never let anything happen, let alone a kiss,” Cynthia Rose counters.

“Fifteen bucks says she’ll come clean before nationals, _and_ she’ll be the one to initiate the kiss.”

“Twenty bucks says she’ll never do it. At least, not without a little push.” Cynthia Rose emphasizes this with a little nudge at Stacie.

“My nails!” Stacie shrieks as she topples over, fanning her hands in front of her face frantically as Cynthia Rose laughs. “You bitch!”

Chloe ignores them, because she’s pretty used to their banter by now, and instead just looks from Stacie to Cynthia Rose and back. Because she imagines this tiny, imaginary light bulb blinking beside her head. Because she. Is. A genius. “That’s it!”

Stacie pauses from giving Cynthia the finger and frowns. “What’s it?”

“Beca just needs a little push!”

“Well, we all need that little _push…_ if you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t – god, _Stacie_ ,” Chloe laughs, shoving Stacie when she starts making thrusting motions in her direction. “She needs a little push from _us._ ”

Stacie laughs, wagging her eyebrows suggestively. “Even better.”

 

::

 

“Alright, girls,” Chloe begins, clapping her hands together as she moves to stand in front of the clustered Bellas, “you’re all probably wondering why I called this emergency Bella meeting.”

“This isn’t a meeting disguised as a rehearsal, is it?” Ashley asks warily.

“Yeah, or another damn cardio session,” Amy complains, punching the air violently for…no apparent reason. “Because Fat Amy ain’t got no time for that.”

“No, no, no.” Chloe’s cheeky Cheshire grin, as Aubrey often likes to describe it, stretches from ear to ear. “What do you guys say to a little matchmaking?”

The seven girls, clearly missing two members who would probably be the only opposing (and vehemently at that) voices to her plan, all start to smile, some excited, some mischievous. Fat Amy slowly raises a hand.

“Yes, Fat Amy?”

“This is between Beca and Treble pretty boy, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“But what about the Bella code?”

Chloe shrugs. “What about it?”

Stacie whoops. “All right, Chloe! You the best!”

“Why, Amy?” Chloe continues, sending a wink Stacie’s way. “Anyone on the Trebles caught your eye?”

“Ugh, I’d rather kiss a gorilla than Bumper Allen.”

“…No one ever said anything about–”

“Anyhoo!” Amy shrugs, taking a huge bite of her pizza as she adjusts the sweatband on her forehead. “I’m in. As long as there’s no running, jogging, climbing stairs, or any other physically-slaughtering activities involved.”

Okay, totally ignoring that random-ass Bumper comment, then. Chloe grins, shaking away the admittedly disturbing image starting to form in her head. “Deal.”

She really is a genius.

 

::

 

Beca feels as if she’s walked into the Twilight Zone when she enters the diner at seven o’clock on Sunday night for a nice, quiet Bella dinner.

Because Jesse Swanson is sitting there.

Sitting _right_ there. At the Bellas’ table. Sandwiched between a smiling Chloe and an overly handsy Stacie, whose fingers are locked between his hair and who looks as if she’s purring in his ear.

Purring. In his ear.

And he’s _smiling._

Actually _purring._

What the hell?

(Beca blames the clenching of her hands on how annoyed she is that Jesse has the nerve to sit with the Bellas. Out of the blue and completely out of nowhere. When he has no right to be friends with them in the first place.

There is no other explanation.

None.)

She almost spins around to leave, because memories of the awkward…thing…whatever it was…that happened in her dorm the other night? With the whole _Breakfast Club_ fiasco? Yeah, she’s really not looking forward to being within three feet of Jesse right now. Especially when the rest of the Bellas are sitting there, free to watch them and then dissect every fucking look and every fucking smile and every fucking thing that transpires between them.

And especially because…well. This whole scene with Stacie is a little disturbing.

Okay, a _lot_ disturbing.

But of course the universe hates her, because Chloe looks up right then, her face bursting into a grin as she waves her over. “Beca! Over here!”

Great. Just great.

So tries to smile back, but it comes out a grimace. A reluctant grimace. Especially because Jesse chooses that moment to look straight at her and attempts what Beca thinks is a smile in her direction.

God, she can see Amy from here, eyeing Jesse with a look of interest as a violent flush starts creeping up his neck.

Fuck. Everything.

“ _Beca_!”

Chloe’s waving frantically at her now, and just. God. There’s no turning back now.

Time to suck it up.

 

::

 

(“Give it your all, Stace,” Chloe had told Stacie a mere hour ago, when they first spotted Jesse walking into the diner in a plaid shirt and a friendly smile in their direction. “Just flirt as shamelessly as you can.”

“Chloe, please.” Stacie had winked. “That’s no problem for me and the hunter. I always flirt.”

“And not shamelessly at all,” Amy adds. “She’s very selective about who she flirts with.” Stacie just shrugs, and she looks a little too proud of herself.

“If he manages to resist _you_ ,” Cynthia Rose had said, punctuating her laughter with loud sips of Coke, “then I give him props.”)

 

::

 

So, hold up. Beca has to get this straight.

Jesse is friends with the Bellas.

The Bellas are friends with Jesse.

Jesse hangs out with the Bellas outside of the stupid a capella bubble… world… circle… _whatever_ , that their college lives all revolve around. And they tell horror professor stories. And gossip about other lame a capella people. And talk about stupid movies. And they sing. In _public_. As a _group._ And they _laugh._ At _Jesse’s jokes._

What is going _on_?

Especially because…okay, this is the stupidest, most ridiculous thing ever, because Stacie has to be the flirtiest, handsiest person she has ever had the pleasure (this is still questionable) of meeting, but…

She swears, the way Stacie’s acting right now? Hands on Jesse’s arm and Jesse’s knee, fingers dancing along the nape of his neck and the ends of curls? Eyelashes batted in his direction, murmurs whispered in his ear while he smiles? While he fucking smiles?

She swears Stacie is, for some bizarre, incomprehensible reason, hitting on Jesse. Flirting with him. Practically climbing on his lap.

And Beca doesn’t. Understand. What’s happening.

 

::

 

Chloe watches Beca out of the corner of her eye, and she’s finding it harder and harder not to smile and not to exchange knowing looks with the other girls around the table.

Because she watches the way Beca’s eyes keep darting towards Jesse as he laughs shyly at Stacie’s blatant attempts to flirt. Sees how her hand clenches on her lap, how she stabs at her fillet with too much force that makes her fork scrape unpleasantly against the plate in a noise that’s grating to the ears.

And the thing is, Chloe feels like Beca doesn’t even notice the way she’s reacting.

(She doesn’t know if she finds that amusing or not. Mostly she just wants to bang Beca’s head against the table, because wow. Really? How much more clueless-slash-in-denial can one person get?)

She watches Jesse, too.

Jesse, whose feelings are written all over his face, with those sneaky side glances and shy smiles and the flush covering his face whenever he’d catch Beca’s eye. She sees the way he keeps a respectful distance from Stacie, ever the gentleman as he gently pries Stacie’s fingers away from where they’re slowly creeping up his thigh. Sees the way he just laughs and gives witty retorts to all of Stacie’s suggestive (read: dirty) comments. Sees the way he won’t quit glancing at Beca every five minutes, as if gauging her reaction, as if telling her, “This is nothing, okay?” even though she tries not to stare back.

(She _really_ wants to knock _both_ of their heads together now and say, “Now kiss!” because she’s just dying right now because of these two idiots _. Dying._ )

“Short stuff,” Amy says, nudging her in the ribs, making Beca glare at her in response. “Why so silent? You’re being the life of the party right now.”

Beca opens her mouth to retort, but Jesse cuts her off with a laugh. “What are you talking about, Amy?” He grins shyly at Beca, and Chloe catches the way he nudges Beca’s foot under the table out of the corner of her eye. “Beca’s _always_ the life of the party.”

Beca rolls her eyes, but Chloe watches how the corner of her mouth turns upwards in an attempt _not_ to smile. “You’re such a dork.”

Chloe thinks Beca’s smile is different – more…carefree, and lighter, and more genuine, somehow – when she’s with Jesse.

And it frustrates her to no end that Beca won’t let herself see that.

(If neither of these two idiots will do anything, then Chloe and the rest of the Bellas just have to play the role of meddling fairy godmother…s.

Whether Beca likes it or not.)

 

::

 

“So, Jesse,” Stacie says, her slender arm curling around his bicep, making Beca’s eyes snap upwards in alarm. Because she recognizes that tone Stacie’s voice is adopting, and…she’s not really going to…? “Your place or mine?”

Oh, she has _got_ to be kidding her.

Stacie is hitting on Jesse. _Stacie_ – her “friend” Stacie – is hitting on _Jesse_ – the biggest dork in the history of the world she doesn’t even know why she’s friends with.

(She doesn’t notice that her hand is clenched very tightly around her fork until she catches Chloe’s pointed looks in her direction.)

Oh god. Oh god.

Why is this bothering her so much?

Okay. She takes a deep breath and becomes immersed on the table napkin her lap, which is possibly the most interesting in the world right about now.

Okay.

She’s not supposed to be bothered so much about this. So Stacie’s apparently ‘targeted’ Jesse, for some unknown reason – for real, who would even like this weirdo? – So what? They’re big kids; they can take care of themselves. She doesn’t care.

She’s just…you know. She’s just sort of concerned. For Stacie, of course. She doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into. At _all._ Because – yeah, okay, so Jesse’s sort of easy on the eyes, but the minute he opens his mouth? With all that useless movie trivia and his dumb jokes and his obsession with cheesy, predictable films and their scores? Stacie wouldn’t last a day – no, an _hour_ – with the guy.

Well. Okay. So maybe Jesse’s not all _that_ bad. He kind of has his moments sometimes, and yeah, _sometimes_ his jokes make her laugh, and okay, he does have that mother-effin’ voice that’s not _too_ bad to listen to, and he gets that stupid-looking smile and that stupid-looking glint in his eyes whenever they’re together – which – made her almost do that stupid _thing_ (that must not be mentioned in any conversation, _ever_ ) inside her dorm room the other night.

But – it’s nothing. It was – hunger, or sleep-deprivation, or tiredness, or whatever. It wasn’t a ‘too caught up in the moment’ kind of thing. Nope. (She wishes.)

“Um.” Jesse lets out a nervous laugh, effectively breaking into her thoughts, and she sneaks a glance at him, trying to smooth down her features into one of neutrality. She can see Chloe’s eyes darting towards her every five seconds, and she is _not_ giving her any satisfaction of misreading the expressions on her face for something that is _not there._ “I’m flattered, Stacie…”

He’s not…actually _considering_ Stacie’s offer…is he?

Stacie smiles. “You should be.”

“…but…” He laughs again, and Beca catches his eyes for a split second before he’s looking away again. “I’m, uh… I have a bunch of stuff to do tonight… For class, you know… I, um, actually have a paper to write for tomorrow, I totally forgot–”

(Beca totally didn’t just let out a sigh of relief. She’ll punch anyone who says otherwise.)

“Oh, come on,” Stacie says with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

“No, really.” Beca’s eyes carefully watch how his fingers gently pry Stacie’s off his arm, and how he gives her a shy, albeit awkward, smile. “I’m flattered, really, but uh… I kind of gotta go.”

Stacie pouts. “Really? You can’t stay for another hour or two? At my place, maybe?”

Some of the girls giggle, but Beca keeps her eyes trained on Jesse, and never has she been grateful that mind-reading isn’t a thing, because the things in her head right now? How she’s internally screaming at Stacie to shut up, how she just really wants Jesse to leave right now?

Yeah, it’s kind of embarrassing. And confusing as hell.

“I wish I could, Stacie,” he laughs, “but I really gotta go. It was nice hanging out with you guys.”

“Boooooo, you whore,” Stacie calls out grumpily as Jesse makes his way out of the booth, and Beca watches how he’s biting his bottom lip to keep from smiling as he shrugs on his Treblemaker hoodie, and she has this completely light feeling in the pit of her chest that she pretends she doesn’t understand the meaning of.

“As much as I love that reference…” Jesse says, his lips quirking. He mimes tipping an imaginary hat at them in such a dorky fashion that Beca smiles in spite of herself. “Maybe next time. See you, guys. And hey, Bec,” he smiles at her, and her teeth drag against her bottom lip as she keeps from returning it, “moviecation tomorrow night?”

“Uh. Sure, dork.” What is that stupid look on his stupid face and why does have to be so – _ugh._ She feels the heat flood her face, but she manages to ignore the Bellas’ eyes fixed on her curiously as she stands up and grabs her jacket off the back of her seat. Because is it just her but did it suddenly get extra hot in here? “We can, um, do it tonight instead. If you…want to?”

“Do what?” Amy asks (loudly, Beca feels the need to emphasize), the same time that Stacie gasps (dramatically. Seriously, her “friends” are assholes).

“Er.” He scratches the back of his head in confusion, and she thinks he looks like a freaking puppy, and the thought makes her smile. Just a little. Involuntarily, of course. “You sure? I mean–”

“Yes. Shut up and let’s go. See you tomorrow, guys.” She grabs his arm, ignoring the surprised expression on his face and the naturally-gossipy, already-annoying murmur from the Bellas as she pulls him out of the diner.

She doesn’t look back, because she might – strangle someone. Or throw up. Or _something_.

“I thought he has a paper,” she hears Jessica say from behind them, followed by Amy, who wonders loudly if moviecation is a code name for ‘sexy times’.

She winces (because really?) and sneaks a glance up at Jesse, but he’s just staring straight ahead, with the stupidest grin on his stupid face.

The punch she aims at his stomach gets rid of it effectively, though.

 

::

 

“Hey.” Jesse’s fingers dig into the flesh of her stomach, making her squirm. “You’re not even paying attention to the movie.”

“I _am_ ,” she insists as she stifles a yawn. Well, she _would_ …if he would stop staring at the side of her faceand moving so his arm’s brushing against hers, because it’s kind of distracting. And this movie’s just really fucking boring, too, so…

Her eyes drag away from the screen, and they trace the line of Jesse’s profile as he turns his attention back to her laptop. His own laptop, open to a Word document with around six lines of type, is beside him on the bed, forgotten; a bowl of popcorn he’s insisted on making before heading to Beca’s dorm rests on his lap instead.

A smile makes its way on her face before she can help it. “Hey, dork,” she whispers, poking hard at his chest to get his attention. He frowns and tears his eyes away (reluctantly, she thinks) from the screen.

“Beca,” he says quietly, “Legolas is in this scene. You shouldn’t be talking right now.”

She smiles. “Clearly you think I care.”

“Oh, you do.” He settles himself more comfortably on her bed, and his shoulder accidentally brushes hers. Again. “You just act like you don’t.”

She rolls her eyes. “And I thought you had a paper? Or was that just some ruse to get away from Stacie, like you won’t admit it was?”

“It was not!” he harrumphs, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth, but a sheepish smile plays on the corner of his lips. “Well. Maybe a little. She was kinda predatory back there…and it kind of freaked me out a little, maybe.”

“You’re a wimp.”

He clutches at his chest, grin permanently attached to his face, it seems like. “I’m wounded, Beca.”

She ignores him and shifts uncomfortably, because Jesse’s just kind of staring at her again with that stupid smile on his face, and his hair’s all messed up from the wind outside, and there’s just the tiniest hint of salt from the popcorn clinging to his cheek, and just. If she’s not careful there’s going to be a repeat of the other night, and she can’t. Let. That. Happen. “But if, um.” God. She doesn’t need to say this. She _really_ doesn’t have to say this, but her fucking tongue’s apparently very determined to embarrass her this evening. “Would you, um…you know…” Shut up, shut _up_ , “…done it?”

He frowns. “Done what?”

Don’t say it, don’t say it! “You know.” She looks away and shrugs, cringing as the words leave her mouth, “… _Listened_ …to Stacie.”

“Listened to – oh, you mean…” The tips of his ears turn red, and okay. This is just great. Way to make things entirely awkward, Beca. She feels like punching a fist through a wall right now. Or jumping off a cliff. Whatever works. “Uh. I think she was just messing with me, Bec. I don’t think she was serious at all.”

“But if she _was_ …” Oh my god, her mouth just really needs to stop talking.“Would you?”

She keeps her eyes trained on the vein on his neck as he turns to gaze at her for a minute, and she can see it, in her peripheral vision: his bottom lip caught between his teeth, the confused look on his face, the unreadable expression in his eyes.

“Bec,” he says, slowly, “That’s crazy.”

Oh.

Okay.

She takes that as a no.

(And as a subtle “ _You’re_ crazy.” And she thinks that maybe she is just that, for reading too much into this. Because Stacie’s her friend, who will flirt with anything that walks and talks. _Anything._ And Jesse’s her…stacking buddy. Her friend. Her maybe not-friend. Her weirdo. Wait, no, that sounded wrong. Not hers. Definitely not hers. Just her…whatever-the-fuck-he-is.

And especially after that _thing_ that must not be mentioned and that they don’t talk about. After his (completely unsubtle and stupid) attempts at flirting. With her.

Ugh, she’s going to kill Stacie for doing this to her head.)

“That nickname wasn’t cute the first time,” is all she says in reply, and she can’t help the tiny smile on her face as she settles more comfortably against her pillows to watch the movie, her hand dipping inside his popcorn bowl even though he makes attempts to swat it away.

She doesn’t understand this sudden… _lightness_ in her chest. At _all._

She can feel his eyes drilling holes into the side of her head again, and the corner of her mouth lifts into something between a smirk and a smile. “You’re staring.”

She can see him grin from the corner of her eye, and he leans in a little, and she almost jumps when his nose nudges the shell of her ear, his breath warm on her skin. _Um._ “That was a no, by the way.”

He laughs as he pulls away, and she grimaces, her tiny hands pushing at the broad expanse of his chest. She’s trying to ignore her sharp intake of breath, the sudden pounding in her chest, the fluttering in her stomach.

Fluttering. _Butterflies._ In her _stomach_.

She shoves his hand away when he tries to force-feed her a handful of popcorn, and no, she’s totally not smiling when he laughs at her frustrated expression as he tips the popcorn into her lap, making her cry out in annoyance.

His shoulder brushes against hers again when they finally settle down, and the next day she’ll swear he’s lying when he “complains” that she fell asleep against the crook of his neck again.

Because she totally did _not_.

(No one believes her, anyway. Typical.)

 

::

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Um, _ow_? I _just_ did my nails, Beca!” Stacie complains as she pulls out a nail file from her purse, examining her fingernails with a tiny pout. “You bitch.”

“Will you stop trying to freak Jesse out?” Beca says, and she doesn’t even know _why_ she’s saying this. “You know the dork’s a wimp.”

“Doubt it,” Stacie scoffs as she drags the file across her nails, the action smooth and familiar. “And why do you care again?”

Well, that’s the big thing here, isn’t it?

Beca has no fucking idea why. Except…

Yeah, okay. Unlikely. So nope. Not going there.

 

::

 

Chloe can’t help the stupid grin she’s sure is on her face right now. “Really? She said that?”

“Yep,” Stacie says, lounging lazily on Chloe’s bed, facedown amongst the cushions. “Looked all red-faced and shit. She’s totally jealous. Which is stupid, to be honest. That stupid Bambi-eyed look on Swanson’s face at the riff-off? And at regionals? And every single day? Yeah, Beca’s stupid.”

“Well, you know Beca and her denial.” Chloe rolls her eyes as she lies down beside Stacie and slaps her on the butt. “Time for phase two, I think.”

Stacie’s laugh is muffled against the pillows. “If this doesn’t work, I swear to god I’m locking Beca in a room with him. Tied together by, I don’t know, some rope or something. No, handcuffs. Sounds kinkier.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience, and I’m afraid to ask.”

“Oh, I am, and you should be,” Stacie laughs. “And then, like, I won’t let them out until they get rid of all that sexual tension and fucking _do_ it already.”

“You and me both.” Chloe grins. “Okay, fine. I’m calling Jessica.”

 

::

 

So.

Jesse is there. At the Bellas’ table. _Again_. For, what, the sixth time this month?

Didn’t they already have a little talk about this?

(“So can you not, like, be friends with the Bellas?”

“What?” Jesse frowns as he puts a CD on the shelf above her, his chest pressed unnecessarily too close to her back that she can smell the faint scent clinging to him. It’s not entirely unpleasant; she often finds it following her everywhere, from her sheets to her clothes to her skin, doing the funniest (read: stupidest) things to her heart. For some totally weird, unheard-of reason. “Why not?”

She throws her hands up exasperatedly. “It’s _weird!_ ”

He shrugs, and she can feel his fingers dallying on her waist as he pulls back, grinning. “I like them, they like me. They wanna hang out, I wanna hang out. Don’t find anything weird about that.”

“Ugh, I swear to god, Jesse. Just stop hanging out with them so much.”

“Or what?”

His smile is a bit too smug, a bit too self-satisfied, a bit too challenging. She feels like slapping it off of him, but she’s not really in the mood for a verbal scolding from Luke right now. “Or else you’ll just come home one night and find that none of your DVDs are in their right cases. Not a _single_ one.”

He gasps (dramatically, making her roll her eyes and wonder how many freaking times she’s going to call him a dork in her head and out loud). “You _wouldn’t_.”)

And they’re talking about love lives. And not just the girls’. _His_ love life. (Exes? Just the one serious girlfriend in high school. Craziest girl he’s ever dated? Well, there’s this girl who used to leave him clingy text messages every hour, but no one crazier than that… Anyone pining for him back home? Nah, he doesn’t think so.)

She wants to pound her head against the table, and then maybe pound everyone _else’s_ heads on the concrete, because really? _Really_? They choose _this_ topic of conversation? She is going to _kill_ – well, all of them, really, but especially Amy, who’s doing most of the questioning right now–

“You know,” Jessica says to Jesse, as she pops an onion ring into her mouth, “Summer was totally checking you out in film this morning.”

Summer? Beca frowns. Who the hell is Summer?

And was that a flush covering Jesse’s face?

“I doubt it,” he laughs, but yeah, Beca can see it, the two tiny spots of red forming on his cheeks. Why is this annoying her so much?

“No, really,” Jessica insists. “She even asked for your number, actually.”

“Ooh, looks like someone’s got a little crush on our Jesse,” Chloe says, making everyone at the table laugh.

Well, except for Beca. Whose teeth won’t stop attacking her bottom lip right now. Whose face she knows is as flushed as his is.

Oh my god, what is happening?

The tips of Jesse’s ears turn red, and the bastard doesn’t even glance in her direction. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Jessica shrugs. “Wouldn’t be surprised if she asks you out sometime.”

Yeah, scratch Fat Amy. Beca watches as Jesse takes a long drink from his lemonade as he studiously avoids her gaze. She is going to kill _Jessica_.

 

::

 

(Okay, the way Beca’s fists are clenching, her face is reddening, and her eyes are hardening?

This is one of the funniest things Stacie’s ever seen.

Even funnier than that guy she slept with last weekend who didn’t even last five minutes. Which is _definitely_ saying something.

The sooner Beca gets over her whole denial-of-her-toner thing, the better.

But for now, Stacie just really wants to sit back and enjoy the show while it lasts.

This is _so_ worth the twenty bucks she’s going to get from Cynthia Rose.)

 

::

 

She doesn’t find out about it until several days later, which is beyond insulting.

And here she is, thinking that she and Jesse are _friends_. Despite the, you know, incident-that-must-not-be-mentioned. Which they’ve totally gotten over, you know. Or just…not talked about. At all.

(It’s a complicated relationship, okay?)

They’re running laps in the studio, and she’s being unnaturally…quiet, running a little faster than the other girls and throwing herself into the unjust exercises Aubrey’s been forcing them to do. Aubrey herself is walking back and forth in front of the line of girls with a towel around her neck and a whistle dangling from her lips, throwing dubious glances in Beca’s direction ever so often, like she can’t quite believe her eyes.

It’s just. Okay, she knows this is so out of character for her (physical activity before 11 in the morning is so not her thing), but she finds that exhausting herself physically helps clear her mind of thoughts that shouldn’t filter through, filling it instead of thoughts of…cheeseburgers, and warm showers, and the unfinished mix waiting for her in her dorm, and a long string of profanities directed at Aubrey that are just dying to roll off the edge of her tongue.

And not of this certain stupid face she can’t get out of her mind.

She kind of wants to bleach her mind this very moment.

She’s running up the steps (and she can hear Fat Amy practically wheezing from behind her – throwing death threats at Aubrey every other minute and casting longing glances at the unopened pizza box resting amongst their things – and it’s the only thing keeping her sane right now) when Ashley brings up the subject.

“Hey, Jess,” Ashley pants from somewhere behind her. “Whatever happened to that Summer thing you and Jesse were talking about at the diner last Thursday?”

“Oh. That.” Jessica giggles. Beca feels her hands harden into fists, and seriously, where the hell is that bleach? “I saw Summer walk up to Jesse after film this morning.”

“Aw,” Stacie says loudly. “I gotta see _this_. Swanson and some girl other than moi? Ha!”

(No, Beca totally doesn’t stumble and end up sprawled all over the floor – that stupid step just came out of nowhere.)

 

::

 

“Whaddup?” Jesse says loudly the minute she enters the station. A juice pouch sails through the air towards her, and she tries not to smile when she catches it cleanly with her left hand.

“Don’t ever say that ever again,” and ugh, okay, looks like this grin is going to betray her. “Ever.”

His teeth flash at her in a goofy grin as he reaches up to get the crate labeled ‘A-C’, which goes up on the highest shelves. “You ain’t like no street slang?”

“Oh god.” There isn’t an eye roll big enough for this dork. For real. “Seriously?”

He laughs, really loudly, in that way that makes her smile. Because he is such a dork. “Hey, Bec, I gotta cut my shift short this afternoon.”

“What?” She glances up at him suspiciously, because Jesse? Miss a shift? But he’s been running for the non-existent perfect attendance award since day one. “Why?”

“Oh, just, you know.” He focuses his attention back on the shelf as he carefully slots in Adele between some lesser albums. “There’s this thing. That I gotta do.”

“Oh.” A shoulder lifts in a shrug, but she has a feeling it doesn’t look as nonchalant as she wants it to look. “Fine. Whatever.”

There’s a heavy weight at the bottom of her chest she pretends isn’t there.

It’s sort of driving her insane.

 

::

 

It’s just… _Jesse._ With some _girl._

She wonders what this Summer chick looks like. Beca figures she’s blond. And tall. And okay, probably pretty. With blue eyes. But with some big dorky glasses. Whatever. She doesn’t care.

She’s also probably a movie geek who likes the lame sort of shit that Jesse likes. And she’s probably a dumbass, too, because, well.

She just _figures_.

Whatever. She’s just really, really fucking bored right now.

(She doesn’t notice that her pen’s been digging holes on her notebook paper until she catches the bewildered look Amy throws in her direction from across the aisle.)

 

::

 

(She also maybe kind of freaks out when she catches herself singing along to Adele. While she’s in bed above her blankets. With a pint of ice cream. At 11:30 in the morning.

Oh, dear god.

She scrambles out of bed so fast she almost bangs her face on one of Kimmie Jin’s bedposts.

She needs an intervention.)

 

::

 

Okay, so maybe going to Amy for advice _isn’t_ exactly the best idea.

“Beca,” Amy says with the solemnest, most serious face Beca’s ever seen on her. It’s a little unsettling. “I’m glad you came to me. Fat Amy gives the best love advice there is. They don’t call me the love guru for nothing.”

“Okay, one, I’m not looking for ‘love advice’; two, why the hell you keep referring to yourself in third person is beyond me; and three, who the fuck even calls you that?”

Fat Amy looks reproachful. “A master never tells.”

Beca sighs loudly. This is going to be a long afternoon.

 

::

 

And she’s right. Because she just excuses herself to go to the bathroom for ten freaking minutes and the next thing she knows, all the Bellas save for their ringleader from hell are gathered in Amy’s room. Staring at her. And smiling.

To say she’s a little creeped out when she walks back in is an understatement. “Wh…at the hell are you guys doing here?”

“It was in Fat Amy’s group message that we come over asap,” Cynthia Rose says matter-of-factly, and Beca rounds her glare on the blond girl sitting in the middle of the bed looking just the tiniest hint of sheepish.

“Amy. Really?”

“What? This is a matter of love and ice cream orgies and depressing music. I needed backup.”

“It is _not_ –” She closes her eyes. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

 

::

 

“Guys.” She’s trying to be really tolerant here. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Beca.” Chloe is trying to adopt the gentlest, most patient tone she can muster, Beca can tell. “You really shouldn’t–”

Apparently Stacie has the opposite idea. “Beca, get your head out of your ass and just get the fuck over your whole denial issue and commitment issue and ‘trying to pretend I don’t have a toner’ issue. It’s getting really boring.”

“I am _not_ –”

“See? My point exactly.”

“Stacie. You can’t force Beca to–”

“What? You have to admit it’s getting pretty old–”

“What Stacie’s trying to say is,” Chloe says smoothly, rolling her eyes at an indignant Stacie, “you’re just trying not to see something that right in front of you.”

“That everybody else already fucking sees,” Stacie mutters.

“Clear as day,” adds Cynthia Rose.

“And we just want you to see it.”

Beca scans her eyes at all the faces sitting in front of her, feeling her own face heat up to the nth degree. There’s Chloe and Jessica and Cynthia Rose and Ashley and Denise, smiling at her encouragingly. There’s Stacie, rolling her eyes until Beca’s sure the girl’s probably dizzy. There’s Lilly, sitting on the floor, muttering something under her breath that Beca doesn’t really want to know about. And there’s Fat Amy, staring at her with big round eyes as she chomps on a slice of pepperoni pizza she’s conjured out of nowhere.

And then there’s that dork, sitting at the very back of her head, unable to budge, his smile and his voice and his stupid, stupid face burning on the backs of her eyelids. That dork who makes her sit through all these movies and sings to her from across the courtyard and texts her way too often about nothing and everything.

She feels a faint burning in her chest; she’s not sure if it’s weighing it down or igniting it, but she registers that it’s probably always been there, from the minute he walked into the middle of the crowd in that grimy pool and pointed at her, his grin radiating in the darkness and his voice echoing inside her chest.

She sighs. She feels a severe headache coming on. “I’m an idiot.”

Stacie snorts, throwing her hands up in the air and mouthing “fucking finally,” and Chloe elbows her in the ribs with a frown. Beca smiles in spite of herself, because her friends are idiots, too. “You’re only figuring this out now?”

 

::

 

Her phone beeps in the middle of this really boring movie that Beca zoned out on about thirty minutes ago but has kept the Bellas conveniently occupied, leaving Beca sits alone with her thoughts.

Until now.

 _Come over if you’re not busy?_ the words on her screen say. _I got popcorn and a juice pouch with your name on it. ;)_

A smile tugs on her lips the same minute she registers the faint thumping inside her ribcage. _Dork._

_Psh, you love it._

_That better be apple juice because I am not accepting grape like last time._

_I take this as a yes._ Then, four seconds later: _No take-backs!!!!_

Seriously. No eye roll is big enough for the size of his dorkiness.

 

::

 

She’s surprised when she finds him face-down on a big old blanket he’s spread out on the grass at their usual spot on the courtyard. “What’s this?”

 “Oh, Becaw! Hey.” He rolls to his side and shoots her a grin that she tries really hard not to return. She ultimately fails, because he looks like such a dork with his feet in the air and his stupid dinosaur blanket and his _candle_ and his pile of DVDs. The arc reactor on his shirt (she shudders at how she knows this) glows up at her. “I was just about to text you.”

“Yeah, any reason why you’re here and not at your dorm? Where you _asked_ me to meet you?” She pretends to be annoyed, but the amusement filters into her voice as he pulls at her pants leg with a pout that is not doing anything for him at all.

“Well, it was such a nice day out…” he says, taking her heavy laptop bag from her and pulling at her wrist with a gentleness that makes her smile. “And Benji’s practicing for this new trick so there are pigeons and mice everywhere at our place–”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said it’s such a nice day out.” He grins. “And I just downloaded all of the _Lord of the Rings_ movies so we can watch the entire trilogy in all its glory.”

“This is not what I signed up for at _all,_ ” she complains, but her heart kind of flutters a little when he smiles at her and tugs at her wrist to pull her closer until their shoulders are touching, anyway.

(She gets bored ten minutes into the movie, and her eyes follow the shape of his face, smiling a little when he does.

There’s something – almost like _fear_ – rising up in her throat.

Jesse’s fingers on the skin of her wrist allow her breathing to even out, though; but the feeling in her chest pounds steadily on, threatening to envelope her.

She’s kind of – scared.

But she almost doesn’t want to be anymore.)

 

::

 

(“So.”

Beca eyes Stacie warily. “What now?”

“Have you done it yet?”

“Give it the fuck up, Stacie.”

“Beca.” Stacie’s voice is almost condescending, if not a little sympathetic around the edges. “Speaking from experience, all this sexual tension is just not–”

“Stacie,” she closes her eyes, “I _swear_ to god.”)

 

::

 

Beca spots Jesse from across the courtyard. Only he’s not alone.

Someone – a tall, blond someone in a Barden hoodie – is with him. Smiling at him. Laughing. Shaking his hand good-naturedly while he nods.

She turns on her heel and places her headphones over her ears, allowing the straining chords of her newest mix to fill in the gaps in the confusing noises raging inside her head.

She’s probably overreacting. (She actually _is_ overreacting.)

God damn it, when did her life become a fucking soap opera, anyway?

 

::

 

She almost drops her things the second she walks into the station.

“Oh my god.” Her eyes widen as the opening chords of La Roux and Agnes blend into a smooth, fast melody over the speakers. “Oh my god! What–”

Her gaze swings to the recording booth, where Jesse’s eyes are just visible in the between the glass panes. He grins, a thumb lifting in her direction.

What is this dork doing? She sets down her bags on the semen-smeared desk and approaches the door of the booth with a certain wariness in her step even though her entire body’s practically vibrating with excitement. (Because that is her own freaking track playing all over campus, heck yeah!) “Jesse!” she yells as she opens the door to the booth and tries not to smile as she listens to the music. “What’s going on?”

“What Luke doesn’t know,” Jesse’s grin is blinding as he emerges from the dark corners of the tiny, cramped room, “won’t hurt him.”

He just–

There’s a pebble. In her throat. And maybe a twig. In her eye. “Luke will–” A shaky laugh escapes her mouth. “Luke will still find out about this, you know. You’ll be on lunch duty forever until he graduates.”

“I know.” His smile is easy, familiar, with just the smallest tinge of shyness that stirs something inside her chest. “It’s worth it.”

He’s watching her with careful eyes as she stares anywhere but at his face, because her feelings are all over the place and there’s a steady thumping in her ears and a coat of sweat covering the skin of her palms. The pebble inside her throat grows slowly into a boulder that she tries desperately to swallow. “You didn’t–” She coughs. This is probably one of the most awkwardly rewarding moments ever. Emphasis on the awkward. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“But I wanted to.” He shrugs, his eyes warm and deep and timid. She finds it strangely endearing, which is… yeah, she doesn’t really know what to make of herself anymore. Or this feeling in her chest. Both painful and exhilarating. “I, uh, noticed, you see. That this track – track 8 – is your favorite. For, you know, when you need that little pick-me-up at the end of a long day. It’s what you always play at our – um, _your_ spot. Whenever I’d drop by.”

A tiny smile dangles from her lips. “You notice the stupidest little things.”

“I notice lots of things.” Jesse’s smile is still there on his face. “So I, um. Kind of copied the track off your laptop the other day, when you fell asleep during our _Lord of the Rings_ marathon. Again.”

“You still can’t let that go, huh?”

“I’m still a little offended, yeah.”

There’s a pause, where he just stares at her, and she keeps her gaze trained on anywhere but at him. Because her heart’s kind of going on overdrive right now, and if she’s not careful–

“I, uh.” Jesse coughs nervously. “I also got you that old Radiohead album you were whining about two weeks ago because you couldn’t find the CD anywhere. I found it at this really cool hole-in-the-wall music place downtown. It’s why I had to miss my shift last week… I’ll take you there sometime; it’s totally dark and edgy and kind of obscure, and the guys manning the place are huge, with earrings and big tattoos and stuff. Totally your kind of place.”

She doesn’t realize he’s started to close the space between them until she feels his hands brush against her waist.

She tries to hide the shiver that runs down her spine. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to be offended by that last comment.”

His laugh is low and gentle against the shell of her ear, and she feels it vibrate throughout his body as he presses against her in a way that’s close but not too close that she feels overwhelmed.

The thing is, she doesn’t feel overwhelmed at all.

It’s kind of a scary thought. A really scary thought. A really, really, _really_ scary thought.

“Stop thinking,” he whispers, his breath warm on the skin of her cheek. “You could hurt yourself.”

“I’m totally capable of taking care of myself.” A hand shoves lightly on his shoulder, but not in an attempt to push him away, because this feels nice. She wonders if he can feel the way her heartbeat’s pounding so loudly inside her chest, blocking out the fading strains of the music.

He laughs a little. “You could just thank me, you know.”

So she does.

The smile is still on his face when she stands on her tiptoes, tilts her head, and presses her mouth to his.

And–

It feels–

He breathes her name against her lips, his fingers digging into her waist, and she smiles as she loops her arms around his neck and thinks that maybe, she’s done something right for once.

 

::

 

(“I knew it.”

“Don’t be so fucking pleased with yourself.”

“But still–” Jesse laughs against her cheek as she leans backwards against his chest. The sun’s starting to bleed into the horizon, leaving a fiery reddish-purple trail in its wake; a slight breeze ruffles her hair as she takes one of Jesse’s hands in hers and places her fingers between the gaps. “That’s crazy. You know that, right? After everything – from the moment I sang to you from inside the car to the–”

“Will you stop–”

“And you _still_ thought I could be interested in some girl from film class.” He shakes his head and looks down at her, looking more perplexed than teasing. “I mean, come on.”

 “Well, yeah,” she squeezes his hand and refuses to look up at him, “but…”

“She was just my class partner, okay?” She can feel his mouth curve into a grin against her hair. “Apparently we were assigned partners that one day I skipped class because _you_ asked me to cover _your_ ass at the station–”

“Okay, how is this suddenly my–”

“–And to think that I wasn’t exactly subtle. Like at _all_.”

“I don’t–”

“And the Bellas were practically setting us up, and you _still_ thought I–”

“Shut up.”

She elbows him hard on the ribs, making him grunt in her ear. “ _Ow,_ ” he protests, his free hand massaging his chest, “can we not use any form of physical violence in any and all of our conversations?”

She tilts her head and grins up at him. “Can’t guarantee that, dork,” she says, and places a small kiss on his chin.

She settles back against his chest, smiling a little as he starts grumbling about how evil she is and what he had ever gotten himself into.)

 

::

 

“Yes!”

Beca rolls her eyes as she takes a sip from Jesse’s milkshake. “Stacie, shut–”

“Finally!”

“Seriously–”

“Oh my god! Just. Yes! Beca! Yes!”

“Stop _screaming_ , it sounds like you’re having sex with me,” Beca grimaces as Jesse buries his face against her shoulder to hide a laugh.

“What did I tell you?” Stacie grins triumphantly at the other girls. “C-Rose, pay up.”

“Wait,” Beca says slowly, “you guys actually placed bets on us?”

“Aww, ‘us’,” Chloe coos, grinning at them from across the table. “How adorable.”

Beca runs a hand down her face, feeling Jesse shaking with laughter beside her. He is of no help whatsoever. “Will you all just calm the fuck–”

“I thought this day would never come,” Jessica sighs, smiling.

“Can I just say how creepy it is that you guys are so invested in this?”

“Invested?” Stacie smiles sweetly at Cynthia Rose, who reluctantly hands over a twenty dollar bill. “It’s all we’ve been talking about since September.”

“For real,” Chloe says, and Lilly nods in silent agreement.

“This all wouldn’t have happened,” Amy says, punctuating her words with an onion ring toasted in the air, “if it weren’t for me. Fat Amy. Let’s not forget this little nugget of information.”

“Yes, yes, you’re the love guru,” Beca rolls her eyes.

“Exactly.”

Chloe frowns, looking offended. “But this wasn’t even your idea!”

Jesse breathes a laugh against her ear, his hand tickling the skin of her waist beneath her shirt. “This is…something.”

“Yeah,” she laughs softly, angling her head to the side so she can see his eyes. “This is something, alright. See what I have to deal with everyday? Told you not to be friends with the Bellas.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that right now, Bec.”

She shrugs. “I warned you.” She smiles as she steals another French fry from his plate, making Chloe beam at them impossibly widely and slightly creepily. The Bellas are all arguing, about whose idea it was to get Jesse and Beca together in the first place, and why is Fat Amy taking all the credit, and didn’t Stacie say from the very beginning that they’d be ‘humping the night away’ before nationals so why is nobody praising her?

She winces at that last tidbit, but Jesse just laughs and presses his lips to the top of her head before (loudly) joining in on the discussion (“Was I really that obvious?” to a series of eye rolls and a resounding “Yes!”).

Beca takes another sip of Jesse’s milkshake and shakes her head.

Okay.

So maybe Beca doesn’t just kind of like the Bellas.

Maybe she just really kind of fucking loves them.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Title** from _Kiss Me_ , Ed Sheeran


End file.
